


Music and Memories

by pukeko10



Category: Dragon Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:40:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13882029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pukeko10/pseuds/pukeko10
Summary: One shot, set in the three year gap. Bulma accidentally stirrs up some old memories, Vegeta wants to forget. What will happen?Written for my patron Rasilina :)





	Music and Memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rasilina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasilina/gifts).



 Music and Memories

Bulma screwed the tiny bolt on her bot her hand was unsteady and shaky causing the screw to jump out of its socket, falling on the table. Letting out a growl, Bulma threw the screwdriver on the table, throwing herself against the backrest of her chair. Running both her hands through her hair, she took a deep breath.

She needed a break.

The threat of the androids was starting to wear her down, like an invisible hand suffocating her. She has been building and improving bots as well as working on upgrades for the gravity machine, doing anything in her power to help and defeat the androids. She had been working without pause for months now.

She surveyed her workbench it was chaos full of tools, cables, circuits, boards, diagnostic devices, crushed bots, and metal chips, and decided to call it a day. Her head felt heavy, her mind was worn out and she had to admit to herself that she couldn't accomplish anything right now. Bulma stretched, grabbed the empty coffee mug, and made her way to her bed room. The hallways were dark, but Bulma didn't bother to switch the lights on. She pushed open the door to her room.

The air was stifling and Bulma opened the balcony door. A light breeze carried the cool air of the night inside. She inhaled, taking in the oxygen and her gaze wondered over the compound. It was long past midnight, but the space ship was still lit up and she could see Vegeta's silhouette moving behind the windows. It had only been a couple of weeks ago that he'd blown up the ship, along with himself. A small smile tugged on her lips, as she remembered how'd she nursed him to health. But now he was back to his training, pushing himself to an extent that bordered on madness.

Bulma turned her back and went to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she brushed her teeth and changed into some very short PJ pants and a loose top. She let herself fall into the sheets, but noticed how tense she was. Her body was tired, but her mind wide-awake. She couldn't relax. Her gaze trailed the room until her eyes fell on an elegantly curved shape in the corner next to her walk-in closet. When was the last time that she'd played her cello? She honestly couldn't remember.

She loved the instrument. She'd been taking lessons since she was a little kid, but she hardly played anymore. When was the last time she played? Too much had happened the Saiyans, Namek, and now the Androids. Her brows furrowed, when had her carefree life ended, exactly?

Bulma slipped out of bed.

She lifted her instrument out of its case, it felt heavy and familiar in her grip and she ran her fingers along the smooth wood. It was outrageously expensive, built by one of the best luthiers in the world. It had been a present from her parents.

She took the bow, sat down, closed her eyes, and began to play. Her delicate fingers flew over the strings, and soon the air was filled with melodic sounds. The melody was light and cheerful and it didn't take long until Bulma was fully immerged in her play, forgetting the world around her and the haze in her mind lifted and the tension in her body relieved.

She finished the last notes, opened her eyes and almost fell of her chair.

Vegeta stood in the threshold of the balcony door, watching her. She'd caught him off guard. For the fraction of a second, raw emotion was displayed on his face, before he managed to regain control of himself and his features returned to normal, hard and unreadable. But Bulma had seen it - the melancholy and agony in his eyes. How long had he been listening?

The Saiyan had already turned, about to flee the room, but Bulma got up reaching out for him, "Wait."

To her utter astonishment, Vegeta obeyed. He halted. His broad back was still turned to her, one hand clawing the doorframe, "Why?"

Bulma's arm fell limp at her side. She didn't know why she'd stopped him, let alone had she anticipated that he'd listened to her, so she just said, "If you want, I can play some more for you."

Vegeta's head hitched. His onyx eyes holding hers captive, his gaze getting intense, dark and for a moment Bulma was frightened. She could see him battling with himself, the knuckles of his fisted hands turning white, then he seemed to give into something, his tension lessening. He slowly slid down to the floor. Leaning against the full-length window, he only nodded, avoiding looking at her.

So Bulma sat back down and began to play. The compositions she chose where merry and jolly, reminding her of the ocean and summer and Vegeta just listened. After maybe an hour, she stopped and the Saiyan was still there. He hadn't moved. A lonely figure in the half-light.

Bulma didn't quite understand what was going on. Vegeta seemed so...defenseless.

"Are you familiar with this sort of music?

Vegeta gazed outside, his eyes set on the star littered night sky. He stayed silent. The moonlight illuminated his face and Bulma was fascinated by his regal aura, the hard, but handsome features.

After a while he answered, "My mother she...she played an instrument quite similar to yours." His voice was rough and low.

Bulma carefully leaned her cello on the wall. Had she stirred up old memories? She hesitated, but then approached Vegeta. When he didn't react, she sat down next to him, his masculine scent enveloping her. She was astounded, that he was sharing details of his childhood with her.

"Would she play for you?" She asked softly, hopeful that he would respond.

His look was absent, the black eyes fixed on some distant point in the dark sky, "Every day. It would drive my father livid, saying that she was making me soft."

"What happened to her?" Her words were barely audible.

"Frieza killed her."

Bulma's heart contracted in a horribly painful way, "Vegeta..." Without thinking, she grabbed his hand. She felt him going rigid, but he didn't pull away from her.

"He was punishing me for defying his orders. I'd fled his ship, shortly after he took me." The Saiyan scoffed bitterly, "Frieza thought it would break me."

Bulma gently stroke the back of his hand, tracing the broad scar that ran across, "Frieza got what he deserved, Vegeta. He's rotting in hell, now."

She wasn't sure, if he'd heard. The Saiyan seemed in a distant place, "I was seven…just a boy." His voice was choked, his words almost sounding like a desperate apology.

At that moment Bulma realized, how much Vegeta must have been through. The incredible strength he truly possessed. Despite it all, he was never broken.

He fell silent. They sat side by side until the sun rose from the horizon, bathing Vegeta and Bulma in soft morning light.

**Author's Note:**

> As a little thank you for pledging, I wrote this little piece for my patron Rasilina. She asked for a story where Bulma plays the Cello to release stress and Vegeta finding out about her talent.
> 
> Leave me some comments, if you want :)


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